


Millenium

by catsaremyboyfriend



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AU: Comic Book Store, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So there was a prompt on tumblr about putting your favorite characters in your place of work, and i work, or worked :( , at a  comic book store.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Millenium

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a prompt on tumblr about putting your favorite characters in your place of work, and i work, or worked :( , at a comic book store.

Another day, another asshole. Karen flicks through an old copy of Aquaman, ignoring the neckbeard blathering on about how “giving Wonder Woman pants is, frankly, an insult to the character.” Karen rolls her eyes, not even bothering to hide it. This guy won’t notice, his head’s too far up his own ass. 

She figured when she applied that working at a comic book store would be fun. Easy. Something to keep her going after being fired from Union Allied, after those two weird lawyers saved her. Karen just wanted a job, she didn’t want the endless male fuckery that came with it. 

She works here nine hours a day, six days a week, which usually goes by quickly. Usually. She steps out every couple hours to get food for her and her boss to share; New York’s big enough that there’s something new every day. Her boss, Jack, is an older guy who hits on her every so often, but it’s mostly innocent. 

Unlike the other guys, who push and _push_ until she’s thinking of quitting. Why should it matter that she doesn’t know what color Batman’s swimsuit was in “Surf’s Up, Joker’s Under?” This is her job, not her lifestyle. 

“Anyway, like I was saying, I’m been working on a web comic about anime,” the guy drones on, and Karen doesn’t _care_. She nods and forces a placid smile as he continues.  
+  
It happens like this. Karen’s store is squished between two larger apartment buildings on either side. There’s an alley on one side where Karen takes out the trash every day. This afternoon, she has the bad luck to be followed out by the costumer from earlier, his trench coat swishing. “Hey, uh, we were talking for a long time in there, and I-”

“Oh, sorry, I’m on break,” she interrupts, tossing the garbage into the dumpster with a squelch. She turns, but he’s moved in close, breath reeking of peanuts. 

“No, I want to say something. We should go out, you can be the Harley to my Joker!” Karen cringes; she knows _exactly_ what kind of relationship Harley and Joker have, and it’s not one she’s interested in.

“Um. No, thank you.” 

The guy’s face contorts with rage. He moves even closer, boxing Karen in between the dumpster and the wall. “Bitches like you are all the same. You’re never willing to give a nice guy a chance!” 

She shrinks back, looking for an exit but finding none. “Um…” 

“Hey!” They both look to the man at the mouth of the alley. He’s broad shouldered, dark haired. Even from here Karen can see the bruises on his face. 

Asshole takes a step back, eying up the newcomer. “Go away,” he snaps; Karen makes desperate eyes at the other man. 

“Is he botherin’ you, ma’am?” 

“Yes!” she calls out, and the man steps forward, hand going to his waist. Asshole moves away, looks between her and new guy, then sprints off, almost bowling new guy over. 

Karen sighs with relief, slumping back against the dumpster as new guy stalks towards her. He moves like a pitbull, all shoulders. Up close, his bruises are even worse, mottled dark around his eyes, his lower lip split. Under them, she can tell he’s handsome, ragged but not ruined. 

“You alright, ma’am?” She laughs, self-consciously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He’s so _polite_. 

“Yeah. Um. He didn’t touch me.” She extends a hand, waiting longer than usual before he decides to shake. “I’m Karen.” 

“Frank.” 

“Thanks for the rescue, Frank.” He nods; there’s something in his face that she can’t quite figure out. He glances back over his shoulder before heading into the side door of the bordering apartment. Shrugging, Karen closes the dumpster and heads back to work.  
+  
Two weeks later, she’s closing up the store; computer shut down, lights off, everything sold on eBay boxed and ready to be shipped tomorrow. It’s dark, around ten. There was a Magic tournament tonight that went on longer than expected. She’s only just said goodbye to the final players, regular customers who she’s friendly enough with to let stay late.

She leaves through the side door, carefully locking it. She forgot once. Nothing happened, but her boss was grumpy for a few hours and it’s not worth dealing with. Karen turns, bumping immediately into a man who sways, mumbling indistinctly. 

Karen’s about to push past him, but she recognizes the nose, the mask of bruises. “Frank?”

He straightens, wincing. “Hi.”

“Are you…are you okay?”

He kind of gives her a look that says ‘No, you dumbass,’ but she’s not offended. “M’alright.” His pupils are huge, even under the bright light of her store’s neon sign. “Just a concussion.”

Looking closer, she can see the blood on the side of his head, a small cut and a deep bruise blossoming. “Oh my God. Were you mugged?” she asks, moving into his personal space. He’s warm in the chilly March air, swaying towards her.

His mouth twists up. “Something like that.” He feels around in one pocket for his keys before going to the apartment side door. She follows without really thinking about it, watching as he goes through keys, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it.

Eventually she grabs the keys from him, finds the right one, and unlocks the door. “You need help, Frank.” 

“Don’t I know it,” he laughs to himself, stepping into the hallway. Warm tendrils of air brush Karen’s face. 

“No, I mean right now. Why aren’t you in the hospital?” She’s got her phone out, ready to dial 911; his huge paw of a hand closes around her fingers.

“No.” She looks up to argue but his face is set, not angry just firm. 

“Why not?” She looks him up and down, taking in the old coat, the three day stubble, the ragged duffle bag he’s been clutching this whole time. 

“It’s not the money,” he spits out before she can ask the obvious question. He stalks off and she follows him again, knowing it’s stupid but not caring. Her curiosity has always been more important than her safety. Her fingers tingle where they touched his.

Frank doesn’t make her leave, even holds the door for her as they step into his apartment. It’s bare bones, just a bed, couch, the kitchen immaculate. A pitbull raises his head to sniff in their direction, giving them a big doggy smile when Frank gets his food out. 

“That’s Hamilton. Ham,” Frank grunts, crouching to scratch Ham’s ears. Standing back up he stumbles, hand going to his head. Karen hurries to support him, bending under his weight. He’s heavier than he should be, chest thunking when her knuckles hit it. 

“Are you wearing armor?” she asks, confused. He pushes away, shrugging off his coat. A skull gleams on the body armor wrapped around his torso. Karen steps back. “Oh my God.” He starts peeling off layers, facing away from her. She watches as he slips knives from sleeves and pants and armor, puts two guns on the kitchen table. Eventually he’s wearing just a tank and pants, staring at his boots.

“Yeah,” he lets out on a sigh, refusing to meet her gaze. 

“You’re the Punisher,” she says, dropping heavily onto his couch. “Of course you are.” Without all the armor he’s still built like a tank, big shoulders and long legs. “Do you tell every girl you bring home?” she asks, fairly sure he hasn’t brought _anyone_ home. He’s not the type. 

This startles a real smile, changing his face from rugged to handsome. “Nah.” He settles himself next to her, carefully not touching.

“We’ll talk later, when you’re feeling better. I’ll stay and keep watch.” 

“You don’t have to.” He's scratching Ham’s head, bending to kiss his nose. 

“I will, though.” Sighing, she leans back into the couch, ready for a long night.  
+  
Six months later, Karen’s closing up shop, carefully putting the last of the comics on their shelves, new content up front. When she’s done she heads through the side door, locking it, uses her new set of keys to get into the next door apartment. 

She takes the stairs to the second floor; she’s been gaining weight lately and she’s not sure why. The lights in the main hallway are flickering again, giving everything an eerie tinge. Her steps echo dully against the carpet and beige walls.

Eventually she reaches room 203, fishing through her bag til she finds the right key. She can hear the TV through the door, maybe a Spanish soap opera. When she pushes the door open he’s there, staring narrow-eyed at the screen like he’s trying to find out its secrets. There’s a new cut through his eyebrow that’ll probably scar, an addition to the dozens of others. 

“Long day?” he asks as she kicks off her heels, letting her toes flex. Ham pads over, sniffing at her fingers before rolling to show his belly.

“The usual.” She falls next to him and he throws a heavy arm over her shoulders. 

“I’m going on patrol in two hours.”

Karen leans her head against his bicep, sighing. “Okay.” He kisses her forehead and pulls her closer, something he would never have done when they first met, before awkward confessions and a lot of whiskey. Tucked under his arm, safe, Karen smiles.  
END

**Author's Note:**

> this was really a hard pairing to write without the background of the show behind it, and i decided that karen's little weight gain comment means she's pregnant because i do what i want


End file.
